Gangs of New Mexico
by Kara Leroux
Summary: The modern day Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl parody story!
1. The Beginning

**It's back with a vengeance! That's right kids, Gangs of New Mexico is back. I posted this some time ago, under the penname K. Axl Rose, but then I had a terrible case of writer's block, so I deleted it until I was able to get back to it.**

**Viper deMarco Captain Jack Sparrow**

**Blake Barbossa**

**Jacob Waters Will Turner**

**Rachel Lark Elizabeth Swann**

**ON WITH THE FIC ALREADY!**

13-year-old Rachel Lark sat in a private room in the back of the RV. She was on her way to a city called El Chico in New Mexico. It'd been a long trip from New York, so she was relieved when she finally saw a billboard out the window that read, "Welcome to New Mexico!" She opened her diary and began to write.

"_Dear Diary,_

_We finally made it to New Mexico this morning. I think we might be at our new house by nightfall. Bryan's going to stay with us this weekend until Uncle Bobby comes to pick him up. Bryan says Bobby has a business meeting and that's why it'll take so long, but I know it's because New Mexico is 'swarming with gangs,' and Bryan's afraid I'll get kidnaped. Sometimes he can be so overprotective! I guess I'll learn to live with it. I hope I fit in at my new school. Usually if you're the mayor's kid, you're either completely feared or completely ignored. I know Mom hasn't run for mayor yet, but she will, and she'll win. She always does. It's getting old fast, and everything's been so monotonous lately. So I'm actually starting to hope that I _will_ get kidnapped by some gang this summer. At least it would be a change."_

Rachel slammed her diary shut when her older cousin Bryan walked into the room. As soon as he opened his mouth to say something, the RV hit a rock on the road and lurched. Bryan steadied himself and shouted toward the front of the vehicle, "See, that's why we should've stayed on the interstate!" He shook his head, turned back to Rachel, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I got something for you," he said, sitting down next to her. He handed her a small black book about the size of an address book.

"Cool. What is it?" Rachel asked, taking the book from her cousin's hand.

Bryan laughed. "Well, why don't you open it up and find out?" Rachel smiled and pulled back the cover. On the pages that followed were the names of gangs in alphabetical order with their symbol, the name of the leader, and the gang's usual haunts. One symbol in particular caught her eye. It was a black widow spider with the letters "B" and "W" in the hourglass shape on its abdomen.

"Wow! How'd you find this?" Rachel asked, flipping through the pages.

Bryan shrugged. "I know a guy."

Rachel lowered the book and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "How many guys can one person know?"

"Twelve," Bryan replied with a grin.

Rachel laughed and stood, placing the book in her back pocket. She almost lost her footing as the RV took a dive into yet another pothole. "Be right back," she growled, and made her angry way to the driver's seat. "I thought you arrested people for dangerous driving, Sheriff Jones! Don't you think this is a little hypocritical?" Rachel asked her mother's friend, who was the cause of the bumpy ride.

"Honey, _please_ stop complaining," Mrs. Lark plead of her daughter. "We're almost there. Just go talk with Chris or something. You two haven't said a word to each other the entire trip."

Rachel looked behind her and saw Chris Jones, the Sheriff's son, using his reflection in the window to fix his already perfect hair. "Well, I wouldn't want to interrupt him while he's worshiping his mirror," Rachel argued. Then she stomped away and, realizing she was still bored, decided talking to Chris could probably be more interesting than talking to a wall. Maybe.

"I'm so sorry for her behavior, Tim. I think she gets that mouth from her father," Mrs. Lark apologized.

"And her father's pretty dag'um proud of her!" Mr. Lark called as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Rachel turned around and her father winked proudly. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who had a problem with Sheriff Jones.

"Frank, don't encourage her!" Mrs. Lark scolded.

"What on earth . . . " Sheriff Jones muttered.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Lark asked. The Sheriff didn't reply. He looked forward and slowed his driving. Ahead was a boy about thirteen years of age stumbling along the side of the road. The boy looked up and held out his thumb. Sheriff Jones was totally against picking up hitchhikers, but he could tell the kid was hurt. He stopped the RV beside him. Rachel's mother opened the door and offered him a ride.

"Thanks a lot," the boy whispered. Rachel helped him over to a chair. He put his head down on the table and fell unconscious.

"So! Where d'you think he came from?" Bryan asked. They looked ahead out the windows and saw a streak of smoke rising over the hill. Driving a little farther, they discovered what was supplying the smoke. There were the vague remains of a vehicle on the road ahead, engulfed in flames. So, that answered that. But the question of how the vehicle had caught fire soon arose. "That's simple," Bryan said with a shrug. "This place is swarming with gangs. I heard they put a bomb in the trunk of your car while you –"

"Fascinating," Mrs. Lark cut him off, taking a cautious glance at her daughter. "It was probably an accident."

"Sure, Mom," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "They ran into a flaming deer."

"Rachel's right, Hun," Mr. Lark convinced his wife. "This don't look like an accident. And I think Bryan might have something there, with that 'gang' thing."

Rachel and Bryan high-fived each other. Mr. Lark smiled, but his wife and Sheriff Jones were not amused.

Mr. Lark turned to the adults and said, "We should probably check this out. I mean, if there is a gang around here, we should take precautions."

"Good idea," Mrs. Lark said. "You kids stay here. Rachel, tend to the boy. Bryan, check on Tarah." She, Mr. Lark, and Sheriff Jones left the RV, shutting the door behind them.

Chris finally turned from his reflection and watched the stranger with jealous eyes as Rachel went to the closet and pulled out a blanket. She draped it over the shoulders of the boy who sat at the table unconscious. He heavily raised his head and looked at her. Just the sight of Rachel's soft smile was enough to tell him he was in good hands.

"I know this is a stupid question, but are you alright?" Rachel asked, placing a glass of water in front of him.

He put something down on the table, reached for the glass, and took a long drink. "I'm a lot better now, thanks," he said, his voice scratched with smoke.

Rachel sat down next to him and introduced herself. "I'm Rachel Lark."

"Jacob Waters," the boy said.

Bryan was sitting on the edge of the foldout bed that Tarah, Rachel's ill nine-year-old sister, was lying on, and took her temperature. When he heard Jacob tell Rachel his name, his head jerked around, as he recognized it. _Probably just a coincidence_, he thought, shaking the notion from his mind.

Jacob crossed his arms on the table, pulling the thick blanket tight around him. He rested his head on the table and closed his eyes, exhausted. Rachel stood and started back for the private room in the back of the RV. She stopped at the threshold and turned back around. Curiosity had gotten the best of her. She went back to the table and saw what Jacob had put there. She reached out in front of him to pick it up, being careful not to wake him. What she held was a gold medallion hanging from a chain. She examined the coin and the skull that was molten into each side, then took it with her to the back of the RV and closed the door. After flipping though the first few pages of the book Bryan had given her, she found what she was looking for. She saw the exact same skull symbol next to the gang leader's name "Dometri," but there was no name for the gang. She quickly put the chain around her neck, keeping the medallion hidden under her shirt. She knew that if anyone found out he was in a gang he would be sent straight to juvenile hall.

Rachel sat down next to the window and opened her diary to start writing again, when a heavy rain began pouring down. She heard the door of the RV rip open as the adults came back in for shelter. She rolled her eyes at the sound of her mother's fussing about her "ruined hair" and her "dry-clean only blouse." Rachel looked out her window. The sky had darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance. Something caught the corner of her eye. There at the top of the hill was a group of motorcycles and their riders. Among them was a black "government" van with a red hourglass shape on its hood. Inside the shape were two letters: "B" and "W." And in front of them all, there stood a dark figure leaning against a silver motorcycle. He gave her a glare that made her blood run cold.


	2. Guess who's in town

Rachel's eyes snapped open. She had been dreaming about how she had met Jacob Waters four years ago. Now she was seventeen, and it was time for the last dance of the school year. Soon after the day they had met Jacob, Rachel's cousin Bryan had started hanging out at a town called Lorenzo, which was a gang hotspot. Rachel reflected on this as she got up from her bed.

It was only about half an hour until the dance. Rachel went to her dresser, opened a drawer, and under a flood of clothes, was a medallion. It was the medallion she had secretly taken from Jacob. She put the chain around her neck. _Mom'll blow her top if she sees the skull on this_, Rachel thought. She tucked the medallion under her shirt so the gang sign couldn't be seen. A loud knock thudded from the door. "Rachel, are you up?" came her mother's voice.

"Yes!" Rachel called.

Mrs. Lark walked in. "Hun, you're gonna be late," she said.

"So?" grumbled Rachel. She wasn't entirely happy about going to the dance with Chris Jones.

"Look what I have!" Mrs. Lark said, practically singing. She held up a beautiful, frilly, black dress.

"Mom! It's beautiful!" Rachel exclaimed excitedly. Her smile faded. ". . . it's also too small," she added. "Where'd you get it? 'Mary-Kate Olsen online?'"

"I know," Mrs. Lark sighed. "It was the only one in stock at the boutique. So I got this." Rachel's mother took out a bustier.

"Oh, no," Rachel muttered, staring regretfully at the lingerie of doom.

"It's only for one night," Mrs. Lark said. "I'm sure you'll live." Just then, the doorbell rang. "That's probably Chris. Hurry and get ready." Mrs. Lark went downstairs to answer the door. But she didn't meet Chris. Instead, when she opened the door, she saw Jacob Waters, now seventeen, with long, shaggy, brown hair and deep, chocolate eyes. He was wearing a Domino's uniform and carrying a pizza.

"Hi, Mrs. Lark. That'll be $11.50," Jacob said. "So. . . . is your daughter home?" He always avoided saying Rachel's name, not because he didn't like her, but because he _did_ like her. A lot.

"Which one?"

"The older one."

"Rachel's in her room right now. She'll be right down. C'mon in," Mrs. Lark said, waving him in. Jacob had barely stepped inside and closed the door when Rachel came down the stairs. "Rachel, you look beautiful!" complimented her mother. But Rachel paid no attention. Her thoughts were on Jacob.

"Jacob! It's so good to see you!" she said. "I was just thinking about you." Mrs. Lark shifted uneasily.

"About me?" Jacob said, a bit surprised.

"Yeah," Rachel answered. "I was thinking about the day we met. Do you remember?"

"Can't forget." He smiled nervously and thought, _C'mon, Jacob. Now or never_. He took in a breath and said, "I was wondering . . . if you're interested . . . and if you don't already have a date

. . . I mean, my shift's over in an hour, so . . . do you think you'd want to go . . . ?"

"She's already going to the dance with Chris," Mrs. Lark jumped in. "I think you should go back to work now, Jacob."

Rachel clenched her teeth, stepped around her mother, and led Jacob outside to the front porch. "Want to go where?" Rachel urged him when they were alone.

Jacob's nervousness had dissolved into disappointment and he shook his head. "Never mind. It's not a big deal."

Mrs. Lark came out of the house locked the door. "Oh, Mom! You're chaperoning?" Rachel groaned in disbelief. Her mother shrugged, got in her car, and left for the highschool. Rachel continued the conversation.

"Jacob, if this is about the dance, I can always –" She was cut off by the sound of squealing tires as Chris sped up the hill in his bright red convertible.

"Hey, Babe! You ready to go?" Chris shouted over "Beverly Hills" by Weezer, which was blasting on the radio. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants, a white tuxedo-print T-shirt, and his black, blue, and white letterman jacket.

"Yeah, Chris. Hang on a minute," Rachel murmured. She turned to Jacob again. "Hi. I'm Rachel," she informed him.

Jacob nodded. "Yes, I've known that for about four years now."

"How many times do I have to tell you my name before you'll get the hint and say it?"

"Only once more. As always."

"Have a good night," Rachel said with an annoyed tone.

Jacob watched her get into Chris's car. It peeled out of the driveway. "Have fun!" Jacob called. He sighed. ". . . Rachel."

At the high school, everyone was having a good time. The gym was a little too crowded, so the latecomers, IE Rachel and Chris, were ushered outside to the school swimming pool. However, the pool deck was actually a little nicer than the gym. It was lit by candles, the moon and stars, and the lights of the football field, across and down the hill. The fence was covered in streamers and balloons. Only a few people were on the pool deck, and two couples were dancing. A stereo was on a table, tuned to the school radio station, so the people outside could listen to the same thing the DJ was playing inside the school. Rachel wished the bustier wasn't so tight. She could barely breathe.

". . .And five thousand," the man said, dropping a tenth five hundred-dollar bill into the kid's hand.

"Thank you," the boy said. "Have fun on that bike." He turned and headed out the door. He was an 18-year-old gangster named Zach "The Viper" de Marco. He had pitch black hair, deviant green eyes, and a smile that would make any girl melt to a puddle. The verdict is: Lock Up Your Daughters. Viper walked by the garage window and said to the man, "Now I remember where I've seen you before! I saw your picture in the dictionary, next to the word 'sucker.' Bye now!" He went down the alley and into the city. The man went over to the motorcycle he had just bought. He put the key in the ignition. It wouldn't start. Then he noticed a tag on the handlebars. In Viper's hand was written:

"You've been had by Viper deMarco!"

Viper was walking through the town and came upon a gas station, where a group of men had parked their motorcycles. The men went inside. Viper smiled, and walked up to the row of bikes. He walked up to a black Chopper. He looked around, making sure no one was watching him, took out his pocket knife, and was about to jab it into the ignition and steal the bike. "Hey, kid!" a voice shouted behind him. He looked back.

"Crap," he whispered, putting his knife away. He turned around, and faced about five men.

"What are you doing, boy?" one of them asked.

"I was just looking at this bike," he said innocently. "I think I've seen it before. I just don't know where." He seemed to think a moment, but what he was really doing was thinking up a plan to take the bike. "Oh, yeah!" he said. "It looks like this bike that a guy whose sister is going out with a brother of one of my friends bought from a guy whose wife's second uncle's brother owns a Harley dealership. He's in this gang called . . . hmm. I'm sure you've heard of it. Uh . . . It's two words. Black . . . something."

"Black Widow?" one of the men asked cautiously.

"Yeah! That's it! The Black Widow," Viper confirmed. He was about to put his plan into action, but the sound of a police car siren stopped him. Viper saw the car heading across the street, and disappearing around the corner. "Well!" he said, shaking the man's hand. "It was wonderful meeting you!" Viper shook the hand that held the key to the bike. As he let go, he took it. (He's a master at pickpocketing.) He walked into an alley, and as soon as he was sure he was out of sight, he took off running.

_Gotta find a place to blend in_, Viper thought. Then, he saw the sign outside a high school. IT'S THE "LAST DANCE!" SCHOOL'S OUT! "Perfect," he said, with a sly smile.

Viper walked in the school. A man ushered him outside to the pool. "Late comers go here. Sorry, the gym's too crowded," the man said, sounding as if he was tired of saying the phrase all night. The man barely even looked at Viper. He didn't even notice the weapons he was carrying. When he was on the pool deck, Viper walked over to the punch bowl. (Imagine that. There's always someone hanging out by the punch bowl at a school dance.) He was relieved that it was so dark. Maybe no one would recognize him. But being the only person there without a date made him look a little odd. He looked around to find a good victim. And he saw her; a blonde girl in an amazing black dress standing beside the pool. Viper ran his fingers through his hair and was about to go over and meet her. "Dang," He cursed, seeing some jock in a letterman jacket approach her and put his arm around her. He turned around and saw another girl, sitting alone in the corner. "Double dang," he said with a smile, and went over to her.

Chris and Rachel were standing by the pool. "Rae," Chris said. "If we have fun tonight, I was wondering if you'd like to go–" he bent down to tie his shoe. "– to dinner and a movie sometime. Like, a . . . date?"

Rachel was gasping for breath. "I can't breathe!" she whispered.

"Yeah, I understand," said Chris, about to stand up. But Rachel couldn't breathe because of the tightness of the bustier, not because of Chris's question. She fainted and fell into the water.


	3. Viper kicks some arse

". . .And then they made me their chief," Viper explained to the girl he'd just met. She giggled at his story, and he was about to continue when he heard the splash as Rachel fell into the pool. "Oh, not cool . . . " he muttered. He jumped up and walked quickly over to Chris. "So. Ya gonna save her or not?" he asked calmly. Chris just stood there, terrified, staring into the water. Viper rolled his eyes. "Well, someone's a few pink bunnies short of a Green Day concert." He took off his jacket, his gun, his compass, and his sword. He did this so fast, it seemed like all one motion. He handed his possessions to Chris. "If you lose any of that, no one will ever find your head!" Viper threatened, and dove into the water.

Viper swam down and grabbed Rachel around the waist. He couldn't bring her to the surface of the pool. The water-soaked dress was too heavy. He tugged at the zipper, and Rachel's new dress drifted to the bottom. He surfaced and laid Rachel on the side of the pool. Everyone gathered around. Viper kneeled next to Rachel. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Breathe," he prayed quietly, patting her gently on the cheek. Then – knowing more about girls than a young man should – he realized the problem. He grabbed his switchblade and cut the side of the bustier. Rachel turned over, and started coughing up water. When she stopped, Viper took his jacket from the floor – Chris had dropped Viper's possessions to go get help – and put it on Rachel's shoulders. He reached over to help her up. When Rachel went to grab his hand, he glanced at the medallion on the chain around her neck. "Where did you get that?" he asked, astonished. She couldn't answer. Rachel's mother and half of the high school kids walked in, led by Chris. Mrs. Lark was petrified. A boy was kneeling next to her half-dressed daughter, who was lying on the floor. The boy held the bustier, had apparently cut it open with his knife, and they were both soaked. Rachel and Viper looked at each other a moment, then suddenly jumped up. Viper tried to explain what had happened, but he knew it looked bad. "Ma'am, I swear, it's not what it looks like," he said. He quickly dropped the bustier. Sheriff Jones stepped forward, along with a few officers.

"Mom, he saved my life!" Rachel told her mother. No one knew what to think.

Sheriff Jones reached out. "I guess I should thank you," he said. Viper began to reach out, about to shake the man's hand. Sheriff Jones grabbed his wrist and yanked off his leather glove. There was a tattoo of a red hourglass shape on his hand between the thumb and index finger of his left hand. There was a "B" and a "W" tattooed in it in black ink. "From the Black Widow?" Sheriff Jones asked. Viper cringed. Sheriff Jones saw the tattoo of a snake wrapped around the gangster's arm, from the tail at his forearm to the head at his shoulder, with the word "VIPER" in the darkened scales across its back. "Zach de Marco!" announced Sheriff Jones, roughly letting go of Viper's wrist. Viper knew he had been found out.

"Call me Viper," he grumbled, kneeling to get his glove. There was a collective gasp from every girl in the room.

"So, where's the rest of the gang?" Sheriff Jones asked sarcastically, looking around. Viper stared at the floor.

"Probably already on their way," he said, glancing at Rachel's medallion again.

"What?" asked Sheriff Jones.

Viper looked up. "Probably around Santa Fe."

Sheriff Jones looked down and saw Viper's possessions lying on the floor. As he picked them up, Viper moved forward anxiously. Sheriff Jones named off the items as he went through them. "A gun with only one bullet . . . a compass that doesn't point north . . . " He gave Viper a strange look. "A sword?"

Viper looked at the floor, but switched his gaze to Chris when he heard him laugh, "You have to be the worst gangster I have ever heard of!"

Viper's impulse was to punch him, but he thought it would be more fitting to make a smart remark. "Ah, so you've heard of me?" he said, smiling. Chris glared angrily, but before he could do anything, his father nodded to one of the police officers. He walked toward Viper, who acted quickly. He snatched his gun out of the sheriff's hands, shoved the cop into the pool, put his arm around Rachel's waist, and aimed the gun at her head. The officer that had been knocked into the pool climbed out, and was sneaking up behind Viper. He quietly took out his gun. "I suggest you put that away, pal," Viper said without turning around. The policeman did what Viper said. "Nobody do anything stupid," Viper warned. "I'd rather not use this bullet." He turned around and started walking toward the gate in the fence with Rachel still at gunpoint. "I'm really sorry about this," he said to her.

"Don't worry about it. I was dead bored," Rachel replied calmly.

"Y'know, you don't sound very scared," said Viper.

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm terrified. And being . . . less than dressed doesn't help," she said, pulling Viper's jacket closer around her.

"I'm sorry about that, too," Viper said. "So, tell you what. You can keep the jacket until I see you again." He stopped in front of the gate and looked at Sheriff Jones. "Sheriff, my effects please." He hesitated, but offered them out when Viper pressed the muzzle of the gun under Rachel's jaw. Making sure Chris was watching, Viper swung Rachel around to face him and nodded toward Sheriff Jones. Rachel knew what he wanted, and she glared daggers at him before reaching over and taking his possessions. She slid his sword into its sheath and clipped the compass onto his belt. As she reached around him to put his switchblade into his back pocket, he looked over her shoulder at Chris and gave him an insolent smile. Chris only scoffed and looked away. Then Rachel leaned away from Viper, still glaring. "I owe you one, Kitten," Viper vowed, then lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, watching in amusement as her angry stare faded. Chris's jaw tightened and friends had to restrain him from charging at Viper like a wild bull. But Viper only smirked and let Rachel go, keeping his gun aimed at her the entire time. "Kids, parents, various authority figures," he addressed, "you will all remember this as the day you almost caught Viper deMarco!" He kicked open the gate and took off running with the police chasing him.

Viper ran across the town sliding over car hoods and hiding in parking decks. He burst through the door of a pub called "The Four Seasons." Everyone stared at him as he jumped over the bar. He grabbed the bartender by the front of the shirt and said, "Viper's not here." The bartender nodded and Viper ducked down and hid behind the bar. Soon, Sheriff Jones and the police came in.

"We're looking for an 18-year-old gangster named Zachary Miguel deMarco. I'm sure many of you have heard of him and know what he looks like." Everyone stared at him blankly.

"Who?" someone shouted.

Sheriff Jones replied, "Zachary deMarco." Silence. "Viper?" he tried.

"Oh . . . " the people recognized.

"Nope. Haven't seen 'im," a woman said.

"Yes you have," Sheriff Jones replied. "He came in about five minutes ago."

_Shoot. He saw me_, Viper thought, realizing he couldn't hide anymore. "Alright, Sheriff," he said, coming out from his hiding place and jumping on top of the bar. "You caught me. Would it help matters if I said I'm sorry?" He strode across the counter, his boots making a hollow clunking sound on the wood.

"Define 'sorry,' " Sheriff Jones said, looking up at him.

"Okay," said Viper, pretending to think. "It took me moments to get over it."

"Wrong answer," the sheriff said. "Why don't you come on down from there?"

Viper shrugged. "Whatever you say." He jumped off the counter and landed on Sheriff Jones's toes.

He started hopping around on one foot and shouted to the officers, "Why are you just standing there? Get him!" The officers charged at Viper, aiming their guns at him. Viper went back with his hands on the floor and simultaneously kicked two officers in the worst place a man can be kicked. They dropped to the floor. Viper stood back up. _Two down, seven more to go_, he thought. One officer charged at him. Viper calmly stepped to the side and watched as the man ran into the wall. The policeman who tried to tackle Viper to the ground and handcuff him suffered a similar fate. The only difference: When he went to jump him, Viper moved, and the officer fell to the ground. Viper jumped forward, taking two policemen by surprise, and rammed their heads together. They crumpled to the ground, unconscious. One of the last three ran up behind him, but as he grabbed Viper's shoulder, the gangster grabbed his arm, pulled him forward, and the officer landed on his back. Viper turned around to the last two and crossed his arms. The policemen looked at him, then at each other, and ran out the door. Viper tuned around to the sound of the bar patrons clapping. "Thank you! I'll be in Las Vegas on the 24th!" Viper responded. As he walked for the door, he stopped by a girl standing at the jukebox and whispered, "Seriously. I'll be in Vegas on the 24th. Look me up." He gave her a wink and left out the back door.

When Sheriff Jones returned with backup, he looked at the police lying on the floor, and asked, "Where'd he go?"

"Where'd who go?" asked a man as he set up a game of pool.

"You know exactly who!" the sheriff said.

"Oh, Viper?" the man asked. "Trust me. You can search this place up and down, and you'll never find him."


	4. Fencing party at Jacob's!

Viper ran though an alley, trying to find a place to hide. He heard a siren. _Don't have time for this_, he thought. So he ran up to a house and slipped a credit card – one he had taken off of someone a few weeks ago – through the crack in the door. He turned the handle and slipped in. He shut the door, locked it, looked around, and noticed a woman sleeping in a chair. He walked over, and tapped on her shoulder. She didn't wake up. "Hey, lady!" Viper shouted. The woman shifted, but stayed asleep. Viper reached into her pocket, and took out a twenty-dollar bill. Satisfied, he turned around, put the money in his pocket, and walked over and leaned against the fireplace. He was absently toying with his gun when it slipped out of his hands. He fumbled with it, never quite getting a good hold on it, but finally caught it just before it landed in the fire. He sighed and smiled, but he was startled by the sound of the front door opening, and dropped the gun on the hearth just before he darted in the closet. Jacob stepped in, shut and locked the door. He looked at Tawny, sleeping in the chair.

"You left the fire going, again," he said, and walked over to put it out. Before he could, he noticed a gun on the hearth. He reached for it. Viper grabbed him by the wrist and jerked his hand away. Jacob looked up, and was face to face with the most infamous gangster in America. "You're the guy the cops are looking for," he said.

"You look familiar," Viper said. "Have I ever stolen from you?"

"I try not to form a familiarity around gangs," Jacob said.

"Really?" said Viper. "Well, then, it would be kind of unfortunate for me to put a mark on your perfect record. Bye, now!" Viper took his gun and turned to leave, but Jacob grabbed the handle of one of the two crossed swords displayed on the wall above the fireplace, and let the other fall onto the hearth, with the blade in the flames. Jacob jumped in front of Viper and aimed the sword at him. "This is really stupid of you," Viper said, shaking his head. Jacob raised the weapon level to Viper's throat.

"You threatened the mayor's daughter." Viper rolled his eyes, and slid his sword from his belt. Jacob groaned. "Aw, now, that's not fair!" Viper shrugged. Jacob continued, ". . . but I'm willing to try." Viper slashed at Jacob, but he jumped out of the way. They fought a little, then Viper stopped.

"You're pretty good. Who taught you?"

"My father," Jacob answered.

"Oh," Viper nodded. "Did he teach you anything about footwork?" Viper started to circle Jacob. Jacob kept with every move Viper made. Viper realized he wouldn't be able to beat Jacob, so he fought until his back was to the door. "See ya," he said. He ran for the door. Jacob thought quickly. He threw the sword. Viper ducked. The blade soared over him and embedded deep in the door, right next to the lock. He walked over to the door and tried to turn the lock, but the sword was in the way. He couldn't unlock the door. And it was of no avail when he tried to yank out the weapon. He turned around. "That's a great trick," he said. "But, once again, you're the only thing between me and the way out." He nodded to the back door. "And this time –" he took his sword out again "– you don't have a weapon." Jacob grabbed the other sword from the fireplace. The tip of the blade was red-hot from having been sitting in the flames. He lunged at his opponent. Sparks flew every time the blades collided. Viper jumped out of the way and leaped onto the stairs. "So, your dad taught you all of this, right?" He shouted over the noise of the metal-to-metal clanging.

"Yeah," Jacob replied. "And I practice every day."

"You've gotta get a girlfriend, man," Viper said with a smile. He pushed Jacob's sword out of the way. "Or, maybe the reason you practice every day is because you have a crush, and you're trying to find a way to impress her. Am I right?"

"I practice everyday so that when I come up against someone like you, I can kill him!" Jacob said, and shoved Viper away. They took the fight to the top of the stairs. Jacob finally hit Viper's sword out of his hand, and it flew to the floor. Viper jumped onto the banister of the stairs and slid down. Jacob jumped right over the side and landed on the floor, next to the fireplace. Viper was already there, holding his sword. He struck the wood in the fire with the blade, and sent hot ashes into Jacob's eyes. He groaned, and put his hands to his eyes. The pain stopped just in time for him to run in front of Viper before he escaped out the back door. He raised the sword he still held

. . . and saw Viper's gun aimed right between his eyes. "You cheated," he said.

"You'll get over it," Viper said sarcastically.

He and Jacob both looked at the door when they heard Sheriff Jones shout, "Police! Open up!" The police had found Viper, and were outside, busy trying the break down the door. Jacob stepped closer to the back door.

"Get out of the way!" Viper said, motioning him away from the door. Jacob shook his head. "Please move!" Viper pleaded.

"No!" said Jacob. "I can't just let you escape!"

Viper cocked the gun. "This shot is for someone else!" he said. Suddenly, Tawny walked up behind him, and brought a baseball bat down over his head. He was seemingly unconscious just as the police broke in. They ran over, and, seeing he was knocked out, didn't bother putting any handcuffs on him.

"Good work, Tawny," Sheriff Jones congratulated the woman. "You just helped capture a dangerous criminal."

"Uh huh. You do know that you're gonna replace that door, right?" Tawny said.

"There's a murderous rapist in your house and you're worried about –"

"I am not a rapist . . ." Viper murmured, raising his head and trying to stand up. Tawny gripped his collarbone and he went unconscious. And this time it wasn't an act.

"Take him away, boys!" Sheriff Jones said, and the officers carried Viper away.


	5. Explosions and kidnappings

Later that night, Rachel was lying on her bed, talking on the phone with two of her best friends, Stacy and Emily.

"I can't believe he kissed you!" squealed Stacy.

"He kissed my hand," Rachel said. "Big whoop."

"Hey, a kiss is a kiss," Emily persuaded. "And from Viper! You are so lucky . . . "

"What's so great about Viper, anyway? He's just another 'bad boy.' " Rachel wondered out loud. She wished she hadn't asked. Emily and Stacy spent the next five minutes arguing over the issue.

"It's gotta be the hair," Emily said. "Pitch black! . . .And c'mon. Who says rat-tails are out of style?"

Stacy argued, "Oh, what? It's not his hair! It's his smile!"

"Yeah yeah, the smile is cute. But what about the tattoos?"

"Okay, the tattoos are hot, too."

"What about the scar?" Rachel cut in. She remembered that Viper had a vertical scar on his face over his left eye that ran from above his eyebrow down his cheek.

"Oh, yeah! That is one sexy scar," Stacy agreed.

Rachel glanced at her watch and said, "Hey, I gotta go. They're giving away free Aerosmith tickets on the radio tonight." So they bid each other goodnight and hung up. Rachel turned on her stereo just in time to hear the first chorus of her favorite song.

"I don't wanna close my eyes,

I don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you, baby,

And I don't wanna miss a thing.

'Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do,

I'd still miss you, baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing."

Rachel's 14-year-old sister, Tarah, walked in, and clicked the stereo off. "Hey!" Rachel shouted. "The call-in contest was about to start! I'm gonna miss my chance for those backstage passes to that Aerosmith concert!"

"Too bad," Tarah said, and sat on Rachel's bed. "I was eavesdropping on one of Mom's calls," she continued, "and I heard something about you and some guy at that dance. What happened?"

Rachel groaned. "Nothing! Now, turn the radio back on!" Tarah wasn't going to let the conversation end like that.

"Who was he?"

"Some gangster."

"Does this gangster have a name?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

"Zach something."

"Whoa! You mean Viper?!"

"Sure. Whatever. Turn the radio back on."

"And you went to the dance with Chris?! All your friends have a crush on him."

"You should have seen them drooling over that Viper dude."

"I don't blame them. Viper's cute. But . . . what about Jacob? _He's_ nice." At that remark, Rachel grabbed a pillow, and threw it at her sister. Tarah ducked away. "I knew you had a crush on Jacob!" she said, throwing the pillow back.

"I _so_ do not have a crush on Jacob!" Rachel laughed.

"Whatever you say," Tarah sighed, and walked out of the room.

Rachel turned the stereo back on, and heard the DJ say, "Marie from Tampa, Florida, you are the tenth caller! You just won four backstage passes to the Aerosmith concert next Saturday in Las Vegas!"

Rachel screamed into her pillow, brought her head up, and yelled, "Tarah, I'm never gonna meet Steven Tyler, because of you!"

Across town, Jacob Waters was sitting on the couch, watching the news as he downed a bag of Doritos. The news reporter was talking about how Viper had been caught. Suddenly, with a clap of thunder, all the lights went out. Jacob heard the soft rain outside begin pounding down on the roof. He groped his way to the kitchen, opened a drawer, and his hand found a flashlight just as the electricity returned.

Hours later, Viper woke up in a jail cell at the police department. He looked at a clock on the wall; almost three in the morning. "Whoa. What'd I miss?" Viper groaned, rubbing his head.

"Well, they dragged you in about six hours ago," said one of the men in his neighboring cell, "said something about the electric chair and the death penalty . . . and that's about it! Tough luck, kid."

"Yeah," Viper sighed. "But, I've had a good life, right?"

"You're only eighteen."

"I didn't say 'long.' I said 'good.' "

There was the sound of a distant explosion. "What was that?" the man wondered. Viper looked through the bars of his cell and up at the mayor's mansion that was at the top of a hill, overlooking the city.

"I'll give you one guess," he said. "It's the Black Widow."

"The Black Widow?" one of the prisoners asked. "This can't be good. I've heard stories about them. They never leave any survivors."

"No survivors?" Viper laughed. "Wonder where the stories come from."

In the meantime, the explosion woke Jacob. He ran to the window, looked up at the mayor's house, and saw smoke coming up from a house just beside it. He armed himself with anything he could carry, (mostly kitchen knives) and darted off. He soon found himself standing amid the chaos in Rachel's neighborhood. A woman ran screaming past him, a gangster chasing her. Jacob threw a knife at him. It imbedded deep in his back and he fell. Jacob grabbed the knife and continued up the street.

The explosion also woke Rachel. _That sounds like it's coming from . . . right across the street! _she thought. She looked out her window. Sure enough, the house across the street had a wall blown out, and the people living in the house were running out the front door. Some members of the Black Widow were inside, turning the place upside down, as if there was something they were looking for. Strange, they were only attacking this neighborhood. Well, duh! This is where all the rich people live! Rachel told herself. She heard a window shatter, only realizing it was a window from her own house! She ran into her parents' room. They were gone. It's three in the morning and their still out of town watching a movie? What's up with that?! . . . Oh, yeah. 'Titanic: Director's cut.' They'll be there all night! Rachel went to her sister's room. Tarah was hiding in the closet. "Rachel! Over here!" she whispered.

"Look," Rachel told her. "The cops will be here any minute. Stay here and let them find you. Okay?"

"Okay. Be careful, alright?" Tarah cautioned. Rachel ran out and closed the door.

"There she is!" she heard a shout behind her. She looked back, and saw who had broken in. Two gangsters, Louie and Mark. Rachel ran into her room and locked the door. She opened the balcony doors and hid in the closet. Louie and Mark finally got into Rachel's room.

"Great," Mark muttered, gesturing to the open balcony doors. He started for the balcony, but Louie held him back.

"We know you're here," he said. "Come out, and we promise no harm will come to you." He winked at Mark. "You got something of ours, and it calls to us." Louie looked down and saw where the carpet had been disturbed from Rachel opening and closing the closet. "The gold calls to us," he said. Rachel looked at the medallion that was still around her neck. Some light from the crack in the door glinted on it a moment, then disappeared. Rachel looked up, and gasped as Louie tore open the doors.

Jacob saw the broken window up at Rachel's house and prayed he wasn't too late. He started for the gates, but stopped to a hissing sound at his feet. He looked down and saw a cherry bomb. He looked back up, and there was a gangster called Dalton. . . .The one Jacob had just killed a moment ago! Jacob looked back down at the bomb. The wick burned down to the last bit. Nothing happened. He looked back up at Dalton and smiled. Then he was knocked over the head with a gun and fell to the ground, unconscious. The moon was just starting to rise over the fog . . .

Moonlight poured in the window as Viper sat in his jail cell talking to the other inmates in his neighboring cells. The guard had just left with some other police officers to go stop the gang attack. Two Black Widow members burst in, grabbed the keys, and let everyone go. But when they came to Viper, they just looked at him. "Hey, look here, Luke," one gangster, Ray, said to the other, "It's Zach de Marco." Luke laughed.

"Last time we saw you, you were all alone, standing on a cliff, disappearing into the distance."

"Your fortunes haven't improved much."

"Worry about your own fortunes, boys," Viper said, going to stand next to the cell door. "The deepest circle of hell is reserved for backstabbers and traitors." Not liking Viper's statement much, Ray reached through the bars and took him by the throat. Viper grabbed Ray's arm and tried to wrestle free. Then stopped. In the moonlight, he saw that what was in his hands was nothing but the bare bones of a skeleton. "So, there is a curse," he said. "That's interesting."

"You don't know nothing about hell," Ray said, and roughly let go of Viper. He watched as Ray's arm turned back to human flesh as he took it out of the moonlight. Luke and Ray left Viper in his cell. Viper looked out the window and watched as the moon disappeared behind the clouds.

Rachel was in her room with the gangsters Louie and Mark waiting outside. "Why do girls take so long to change?" Mark muttered.

"Don't know," Louie replied. "But in the end, it's usually worth it, know what I mean?" He grinned knowingly.

Rachel had changed out of her nightclothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She glanced over at her dresser where she had put Viper's jacket, hearing his words replaying in her mind. _Until I see you again_. So she decided to take it, just in case. She started to put the jacket on, and noticed it held a faint but intoxicating scent of roses and champagne.

Rachel was taken down to the lake that was just outside the city. There, she saw about thirty motorcycles and one black van. It was the same van she had seen four years ago. Rachel noticed a figure leaning against a motorcycle at the water's edge. The motorcycle was completely chrome. The boy leaning against it was about eighteen or nineteen. He had short hair that was bleached to white. He was wearing a pair of torn jeans that were covered to the knees by his tall black boots. His white wife-beater was sharply contrasted against his black sleeveless trench coat.

"Hey, Blake!" Mark called.

When Blake turned around, Rachel saw his electric-blue eyes and froze. Those were the same eyes that she had seen four years ago.

Blake looked at Rachel and rolled his eyes. "I thought I said there'd be no kidnaping tonight," he said.

"We didn't kidnap her," Louie refused. "She pleaded Parley."

"Alright," Blake sighed. He waved Rachel over, and she went down to talk to him. "What do ya want?" he asked.

Rachel took him by the collar and ordered, "I want you and your little buddies to leave and never come back."

"I don't think I can do that," Blake said, taking her hand down.

"Okay, fine," Rachel mumbled. She took off the medallion and readied to throw in into the lake. "I'll throw it," she warned. Blake shifted uneasily, but quickly covered his discomfort.

"What makes you think your jewelry matters to me?"

"It's what you're looking for. I recognize . . . " She almost told him how she remembered seeing him, but thought better of it, and pointed to the silver motorcycle. ". . .that motorcycle. I saw it four years ago."

"Really? Well, it is pretty hard to miss," Blake said, sounding like he didn't give a rap about what she had to say.

"Alright," Rachel shrugged. "I guess if it's worthless, there's no point in keeping it." She drew back as if she was going to throw the medallion into the lake.

"Hold it!" Blake objected, grabbing her by the wrist. Rachel smiled. Blake laughed softly. He moved toward her. Rachel put the medallion back around her neck. "What's your name?" Blake asked. Rachel knew better than to give him her real name.

"Rachel . . . Waters," she said, using the only name on her mind at the moment: Jacob's. Blake smiled. Behind him, he heard Louie whispering to Mark.

"You know! Jesse!" Louie reminded Mark. Blake seemed more interested now.

"And, how'd ya get that medallion?" he asked Rachel. "Family heirloom?"

"Yeah. Let's go with that," Rachel agreed quickly.

Blake nodded. "Okay. So hand it over, me and the boys'll blow outta here, and never return." He held out his hand. Rachel gave him the medallion. Blake whistled, and a black cat jumped out of the open van window. It ran to Blake and jumped up on the seat of his motorcycle. Blake held out his hand to the cat. It snatched the medallion up in its teeth, then darted back into the van. By now, most of the gang had come back and were ready to go. "Alright! Get on," Blake said to Rachel, taking her toward the chrome motorcycle.

"What?" Rachel asked. "You didn't say anything about me going with you!"

"Then I guess now's a good time. You're coming with me," Blake told her. He put her on the bike with him and led the Black Widow into the dim light of the rising sun.


	6. When in doubt, recruit a criminal

Jacob woke the next morning in his own bed. The police had probably found him and brought him home. Jacob changed his clothes and was about to leave his room, but his noticing of a note on his dresser stopped him. It was from Tawny. All it said was she "had a case in Texas" – since she was a lawyer – and that there's "food in the fridge."

Jacob ran into the police department and was about to open the door to the hallway. As he passed the desk, the woman behind it said in a blunt tone, as if she were reading the phrase off a piece of paper, "Excuse me sir or madam. You do not have permission to enter that room, hallway, et cetera. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to . . . " She jumped up and yelled at the TV she was watching, "No, Bradley, you moron! Don't kiss her. That's not Melissa! That's her twin sister! Don't!" The woman fell back in her chair. "Oh, good job. Now the wedding's gonna be totally ruined. . . .Idget." When she looked up, Jacob was gone.

Jacob walked down the hallway and into a room where Sheriff Jones, Mr. and Mrs. Lark, and a few police officers were conversing. "They've taken her!" Jacob shouted, bursting into the room. "They've kidnaped Rachel!"

"Go home, Jacob," Sheriff Jones sighed.

"We've got to hunt them down. We gotta save her!" Jacob tried again.

"And where do you think we should start?" Mrs. Lark asked. Jacob didn't have a clue. "If you have any information about my daughter, please share it!" the mayor said, irritably. No one spoke for a moment.

"What about that Viper kid?" one of the officers supplied. "He used to be in the Black Widow, right?"

"There ya go!" Jacob said to Sheriff Jones.

"I'm taking him to the electric chair in half-an-hour, Jacob," Sheriff Jones said. "Look. Go home. We'll take care of it." Jacob turned and left, but he didn't go home just yet. He still had one more plan. He went down the stairs into a corridor of cells. He heard someone singing. He began to tiptoe down the corridor until he found who it was. It was Viper, lying on his cot, staring at the ceiling, singing:

"I am a thief, I am a murderer

Walking up this lonely hill

What have I done? I don't remember

No one knows just how I feel

And I know that my time is coming soon . . . "

"Zach . . . deMarco?" Jacob addressed carefully.

"Whoa! What the--!" Viper gasped with a jump, almost falling off the cot to the floor. He looked up at Jacob. "Oh, it's you," Viper said, settling back down on the cot and resting with his hands behind his head. "Look, it's not a good time for a rematch, okay?"

"That's not what this is about," Jacob said. "Do you know about that gang? The Black Widow?"

"Sorta," Viper said cautiously.

Jacob asked, "Where would you find them?"

"Find 'em?" Viper repeated. "You haven't heard the stories?" Jacob shook his head. Viper explained, "Them and their so-called 'leader,' Blake, can usually be found somewhere around La Flor de Mal. That's 'The Flower of Evil.' It's an island just off the coast of the sea just south of here that can't be found, on a map or otherwise. . . .Unless, you already know where it is . . . " He let it hang.

"Where is it?" Jacob asked.

"Why ask me?" said Viper, crossing his feet.

Jacob replied, "Because you're a gangster."

"And you wanna be a gangster, too, huh?" Viper questioned. Jacob seemed offended.

"Not . . . in a million . . . years," he said through clenched teeth. Viper tilted his head in an "I don't care" kind of way, and went back to staring at the ceiling. "This might interest you," Jacob told him. "They kidnaped this girl . . . "

"What about a girl?" Viper asked, sitting up straight.

"Yeah. They kidnaped a girl I kinda . . . "

". . .are in love with?" Viper finished the sentence for him. "That's really great and all, but if you're planning on going to her rescue and winning her heart, I think you're gonna have to go alone. I don't see what's in it for me."

"I'll get you out of here," Jacob offered.

"How you gonna do that?" Viper asked, then jerking his head toward the door, added, "Dumb and Dumber ran off with the keys."

Jacob took a lock pick out of his pocket and his face said it all.

Viper smiled a little. "I like ya, man. What's your name?" he asked.

"Jacob Waters," came the reply.

Viper nodded, and said, "Jacob _Jesse_ Waters, right? Your middle name was your dad's name."

"Yeah," Jacob said. "How did you –"

"Forget about it," Viper cut him off. "So . . . if you get me out of here, I swear on the pain of my death, I'll take you to the Black Widow and your girlfriend. Deal?" He put his hand through the bars. Jacob thought a moment, then shook his hand with a smile.

"Now move," he said. Viper stepped back and watched as Jacob picked the lock of the cell and opened the door.

"Good work," Viper complimented. He started going through the drawers of the guard's desk until he found a key.

"Where are you going?" Jacob asked Viper, who was busy unlocking a closet door.

"Dude. I'm not leaving without my stuff," Viper said from inside the closet. He started going though the boxes until he found his sword and gun.

As he left the room, Jacob asked him, "Why will you need that gun? You could have gotten away if you had killed me before, but you weren't willing to use it."

"And I'm starting to think that was a mistake," Viper cautioned, cocking the gun and aiming at Jacob. "When you've only got one shot, then you'd better wait for the opportune moment. That wasn't it. And neither is this," he said, and lowered the gun. "C'mon. We got a girl to save," he continued, and led Jacob out the door.

Viper and Jacob peeked around the corner outside the Four Seasons. "Can you ride a bicycle?" Viper asked.

"What kind of question is that?" Jacob returned.

"The 'yes or no' kind," said Viper.

Jacob gave him a look. "Yes, I can ride a bicycle."

"Good. Then take this –" he handed Jacob the key he had stolen the day before "– And take that black Chopper over there."

"I can't ride a motorcycle!"

"You can ride a bike, you can ride a motorcycle."

"There's a difference."

"Yeah. Motorcycles get girls. Now listen. Go to the head of the interstate and stay in the parking lot of the Waffle House where you can see the intersection. When you see me go by, just follow me. If I've got the cops on me, just stick around a while, then go north and follow the signs to Lorenzo. I can find you from there. Got it?" Viper had stated his directions so quickly, Jacob barely caught bits and pieces.

"Okay, so . . . if there's cops in Lorenzo, go to the Waffle House –" Jacob tried to repeat.

"Good enough," Viper cut him off. "Now go!" He shoved Jacob out and ran to steal a motorcycle for himself. And he knew exactly where to go.

Viper snuck around the back of a warehouse just outside the industrial park. The air smelled like sulfur and pierced his lungs. Fighting the strangled feeling in his throat, he climbed up the rusty ladder precariously drilled into the side of the building. When he got to the roof, he climbed down another ladder that was hidden under a trap door. As he climbed down silently, he carefully closed the door above his head. He heard it click as it locked. He pressed his hand up against it and realized it wouldn't open. _Wasn't expecting that_, he thought. A few feet lower, the ladder ended. _Or that_. He looked down and realized where he was. The warehouse was piled up with tires of all sizes, littered with old, rusted vehicle frames and parts, and the desk in the corner was overflowing with papers and folders. It was a chop shop disguised as a garage. Suddenly, one of the hoods of the cars popped open and a man stood in its place.

"Hey, Vince!" the man called.

Another man scooted out from under a van. "Yeah, Max?"

"What's this?" asked Max, holding up a large metal mass that was dripping in oil.

"Oh, I dunno, man. About three hundred dollars?" Vince replied with a laugh. Max threw the car part over his shoulder and it clattered to the concrete floor.

Viper reached into his back pocket to take out his handkerchief. In his struggling, he pulled out his switchblade with it and it tumbled from his grasp, threatening to make his presence known. But he acted quickly and barely caught it before it left his reach. He breathed a sigh of relief, which caused him to cough from the fumes in the air. But he quickly stopped and held his breath.

"What was that?" he heard Vince wonder.

"Huh? Oh, probably rats," Max said.

Viper held the handkerchief in his mouth as he reached back and put the blade back in his pocket. Then, using only one hand, carefully tied the handkerchief behind his head and over his mouth and nose.

He knew he couldn't just stay hanging on that ladder forever. He looked around to find either the motorcycle he was looking for or a way down, whichever came first. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that just a few feet below him was a huge heap of old tires and car parts. He rolled his eyes and eased down the ladder. For a few seconds, he dangled by just his arms until his feet touched down on something sturdy. Then he slowly let go, got down on his knees and began his descent to the floor. And when he finally did touch the concrete, he wanted to kiss it. (And had he imagined the floor to be Helena Bonham Carter, he probably would have done just that.) He slowly stood up and noticed the error of his ways. He should have stayed on his perch until he found Max's motorcycle, then he could have come down and gone right to it. From up on that ladder, he could see the entire warehouse. Now he was going to have to do something he really didn't want to do. He took out his gun, cocked it, pulled down the handkerchief and came out of his hiding place.

"Hey there, Max," he greeted, walking toward him with his gun aimed. Max and Vince both jumped up with their hands in the air.

"Viper!" Max stuttered, coming out of the car he stood in the middle of. "Listen! Honestly, I didn't know you two were going out! It was Ashley's fault! She should have told me!"

"That's not why I'm here. I came 'cause I need to take your bike for a little –" Viper then comprehended what Max had just told him. "What'd you just say?"

Then the door came open and Ashley, Viper's girlfriend, walked in. "Max, babe, I'm gonna need some money for some new –" She then saw Viper with his gun aimed at Max. "Oh, Viper," she gasped. "I guess you've found out about me and Max already, huh?"

"I have now," Viper said. All was quiet for a moment, then Viper fully grasped what was going on. "Eew! You and Max?!" he asked. "That's not just gross. That's embarrassing!" He glared at Max. "And to think I actually let you in one of my gangs and taught you all my best pickup lines."

"Look, Viper, I'm really sorry," Ashley apologized. "I hope we can still be friends . . . "

"Heck, don't worry, Sugar," Viper said with a smile. "I may have lost you, but at least your sister hasn't dumped me yet!" Ashley's jaw dropped to the floor. Viper turned back to Max. "Y'know, I was just going to steal your bike, but I've got a little something extra planned for you now." He went toward the door, closed it, locked it, and closed the shade with an evil grin.

When the police came to the scene later on, they found Max, Vince, and Ashley all tied to chairs in the middle of the room. Each of them had a word written on their forehead with a red permanent marker. Max's forehead said "Dork," Vince's said "Loser," and Stacy's said "Skank." Max's motorcycle was missing. And as Sheriff Jones investigated the scene, steam escaped his ears as he read what was spray-painted on the wall.

"Sheriff, if this paint is still wet, you just missed me! –Viper"


	7. Who's yo daddy?

Viper had led Jacob as far into Lorenzo as the "Welcome to Lorenzo!" billboard when Jacob pulled off the road and motioned him back. He had something to settle, and he didn't want to get too far in without doing so.

Viper turned around and went back to him. "What's up?" he asked.

"Why'd you help me?" Jacob asked suspiciously.

Viper wasn't sure how to respond. "Well . . . You said there was a girl involved. How could I refuse?"

"You only agreed to help me after you knew my name. And then you knew my father's name. Which has to mean you knew my father."

Viper looked away and thought about what to say. Then he settled on the truth. "Yeah, I knew 'im. Jesse Waters." He nodded and smiled. "Good man. Great gangster. I swear, you look just like him!"

Jacob seemed offended. "He wasn't a gangster. He was a respectable man who obeyed the law!"

Viper rolled his eyes. "He was a freakin' gangster! Greatest threat to the Four Corners while he was alive!"

Jacob took out his sword. "My father wasn't a gangster."

"Put it away, Pup," Viper warned. "It's not worth getting beat again."

"You didn't beat me. You broke the rules. In a fair fight, I'd kill you."

"Then that's not much of a reward for playing fair, is it?" Viper asked. He took out his own sword and struck Jacob's out of his hand, then picked it up and crossed both of them over Jacob's throat, pinning him to the billboard. "Now pay attention. The only rules that really matter are these: What you can do, and what you can't do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a gangster and still a good man, or you can't. But it's in your blood, so you'll just have to deal with that someday. Now, me; I can kill ya!" A look of horror appeared on Jacob's face. "But," Viper emphasized, "whoever she is, that girl you're going after most likely won't be willing to come with me. So . . ." He pulled the swords away and Jacob dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Viper put his sword in its sheath and aimed Jacob's sword at him. "Can you 'form a familiarity around gangs . . . '" He flipped the sword and held the handle down toward Jacob. ". . .or can't you?"

Jacob took the sword and stood. "Let's do it," he said. "I'm not gonna like it, but I'll do it. For her."

Viper nodded. "Now was that so hard?"

"You have no idea." They both climbed back on their motorcycles and sped into Lorenzo.

Viper led Jacob through the mall in Lorenzo, telling him about the city. "Now, believe it or not, Lorenzo is a city living under anarchy. There's no rules, because there's no cops."

"Why not?" Jacob asked, realizing he hadn't seen a single policeman the entire time they'd been there.

"I guess they know we don't need them," Viper replied. "It is possible to have order without law. And it's easier to keep order when there's no one making you." He shrugged. "Or, they're all too scared." He changed the subject. "But I tell ya, if every city were like this one, the world would be a much happier place." Just then, as if to prove his point, a girl with long red hair approached them. "Scarlet!" Viper addressed, and went toward her with open arms.

She slapped him across the face. "That's for last night!" she growled, then shoved past Jacob and stalked away.

"Not sure I deserve that," Viper said, rubbing his face. Another girl walked up to him. "Giselle," he greeted with a smile.

She smiled back, then slapped him and left, calling back, "That's for last night, too!"

Jacob gave Viper a look. "I may've deserved that," said Viper, then led Jacob to a secluded part of the mall. Here, there was what used to be the movie theater. The windows of the doors were boarded up and painted black. In fact, everything in that space was painted black. Even the floor. There was a big neon sign above the box office window that said, "The Tsunami."

There were people lined up at the window, but the man inside looked up from his list and his face lit up when he saw Viper. "Viper! How's it goin'?" he called.

Viper and Jacob went up to the window and Viper replied, "Pretty good. Hey, can you add a name to the list for me?"

"Sure," the man replied. "Let's have it."

"Um . . . Jacob Waters," Viper said, almost smugly.

The man dropped his pen in shock and caught it before it rolled off the deck. ". . .Come again?" Viper smiled slyly. The man looked at Jacob with wide eyes . . . as if he'd seen a ghost. "Jesse . . . " he whispered to himself. Then he scrawled Jacob's name down, never taking his eyes off his face.

"Thanks," Viper said, and led Jacob through the door on the left of the window. There was a long, spiraling staircase lit dimly with lanterns that hung on the walls.

"Okay, why did my name freak that guy out?" Jacob asked as they descended.

"Let's just say, 'Waters' is a name we never expected to hear again."

"Why is that?"

"Do you ever stop asking questions?"

"Do you ever fully explain anything? At all? Ever?"

"Not if I don't have to." They finally came to the door at the bottom of the staircase. "You ready?" Viper asked.

"Yes, let's just get this over with. The sooner I get to Rachel, the better."

As Jacob walked toward the door, Viper grabbed him by the shoulder. "Did you say Rachel?"

"Yeah."

"_That's_ who we're rescuing?"

"Yes . . . "

"Blonde hair? Indigo eyes? Lilac perfume?"

"Yes to the first and second, but I wouldn't know about the third."

"Crap . . . " Viper muttered, realizing that now he actually had to _rescue_ this girl. He opened the door and they stepped inside.

The Tsunami was an underground tavern with a tropical island theme. It was lit solely by the lanterns that were in the middle of each table and the torches on the walls.

"I'll be right over there," Viper said, pointing to a dark, secluded corner where one person sat at a table. "Keep your eyes open, 'kay?" he warned. Jacob became a bit uneasy at that statement, and kept a hand on the handle of his sword.

Viper sat down at the table in the corner. Across from him was his friend Bryan Lark, now twenty years of age. He took a sip from the glass of wine in front of him, then took a bottle out from under the table and held it out. It was Viper's favorite drink: black champagne. He reached for it, but Bryan moved it away. "I really shouldn't give this to you. First you threaten my cousin, next you go and get arrested, and then you almost get yourself fried in the chair this morning."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm now going to _rescue_ your cousin, I was arrested _honorably_ after an epic sword fight, and I _didn't_ get fried. So hand over the goods, Pilgrim!" Bryan handed the champagne to Viper, who took it gladly and poured the dark drink into a glass and took a drink.

"So?" Bryan asked, "What's _this_ adventure about?"

Viper leaned forward and said quietly, "I'm going after the Black Widow." Bryan looked at him in disbelief. "I know where they're gonna be, and I'm taking that bike."

"You're gonna steal the Silver Angel?"

"Exactly."

"Viper, that's not just dangerous, it's stupid. You know the stories about the Black Widow."

"That's how I know what Blake's up to. I just need a gang."

"Look. From what I hear, Blake's not the type to strike a bargain with a fool."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not a fool, right?"

"What exactly makes you think Blake will give the Angel over to you?"

"All a matter of leverage," Viper said, motioning toward Jacob, who had a girl flirting with him, trying to convince him to dance with her.

"The kid?" Bryan asked.

Viper nodded firmly. "That is Jesse Waters's kid. His only kid. Eh?"

"Are you serious?" Bryan said, taking another look. "You say leverage; I say there's a change in the wind. I'll get us a gang. There's gotta be someone in this town that's as crazy as you!"

"Ya better believe it," Viper said with a smile. He raised his glass. "'Take what you can!'"

"'Give nothing back!'" Bryan finished their motto. They clinked the glasses together, gulped down the rest of their drinks, and slammed the glasses back down on the table, shattering them to pieces.


	8. Does this mean we can't make out?

The Black Widow had stopped for the night in a field of tall grass in the middle of nowhere. Rachel sat alone, leaning against Blake's chrome motorcycle, which she had learned he called "the Silver Angel." Rachel heard the grass rustle behind her. Louie and Mark appeared beside her.

"Blake wants you to meet him in Dalton's van," Louie informed.

"Then you can tell him that 'I guess this is a good time' to say that I want nothing to do with him."

Louie laughed. "He said you'd say that. He also said if that's how you feel, then you'll be meeting the rest of the gang in Dalton's van instead!" Mark giggled, and Louie grinned.

Rachel crossed her arms. "In that case, tell Blake I'm coming."

". . .Fine," Louie said, disappointed.

Rachel walked up and saw Blake standing on the hill next to the black government van. He was staring absently at the horizon. The clouds blocked out some of the sky, but the stars were still visible in some places. The moon was entirely blocked out. Blake heard Rachel's footsteps and looked back. She paused, but continued toward him when he smiled and turned around. He offered her his hand and she took it cautiously. He slid open the door of the van, helped her inside, then got in himself, taking another look at the sky before closing the door.

The inside of the van was not what Rachel expected. The windows were curtained in red velvet, as the floor was carpeted. The dome light cast an eerie red light in the space. In one corner was a pile of red and black pillows, and in the opposite corner was a wine rack.

Blake put a CD in the stereo and let it play, then took up a bottle of wine and two glasses and sat down next to Rachel. "So, what got ya?" Blake asked as he poured the wine. "The request or the threat?"

"The threat," Rachel replied quickly. Blake laughed softly and offered her a glass of wine. "I don't drink," she said.

"Won't do you any good to play games with me," Blake informed.

Rachel took a taste of the wine. Deciding it wasn't as bad as she'd thought it'd be, she took a good drink. Blake watched with desire as she drained the glass. She looked at him and noticed that he hadn't taken a single drink the whole time. He smirked, and Rachel knew it could only mean one thing: He'd poisoned her.

"Don't worry, Rachel," Blake said as if he'd read her thoughts. "There's no sense in killing you."

"Then let me go! You got your little trinket. What else do you want?"

Blake took the medallion from the inside of his coat and held it by the chain. "You don't know what this is, do ya?"

"It's a . . . medallion?"

"This is Aztec gold," Blake said, leaning toward her and lowering his voice to a whisper. "And there are 221 other pieces exactly like it. They were delivered in a stone chest to Dometri and his gang, as payment from the devil himself. But it couldn't satisfy Dometri's greed. So Satan placed a terrible curse on the gold. Anyone that removes even single piece from that stone chest would be punished for eternity."

"I don't believe in ghost stories anymore, Blake," Rachel told him.

"That's exactly what I thought when I first heard about it. 'Buried on La Flor de Mal, an island that can't be found, except by those who know where it is.' We found it. There was the chest . . . inside was the gold . . . and we took it all! Spent 'em, traded 'em, threw 'em away on food, drink, and company. But the more we gave them away, the more we began to realize that no matter how much we ate, we were always hungry. No matter how much we drank, we were always thirsty. And no matter how many women we hired, our lust was never satisfied. We're cursed. Every last one of us. We were compelled by greed, but now we're consumed by it." He didn't notice how close he was to her until he felt her hand on his belt. He started to back away, but she held him there. He wasn't about to question why.

Rachel's hand wasn't on his belt. It was on the handle of his sword. She could only hope he hadn't figured that out yet. And she could tell by his slight smile that he hadn't.

"How can you get rid of the curse?" Rachel asked.

"All the pieces of Aztec gold must be put back in the chest, and the blood must be payed. And thanks to you, we have the last piece."

"And the blood?"

Blake knew that as soon as he answered, she would try to get away. He reached around her and locked the padlock on the double doors that led out the back of the van, chaining them shut. "That's why there's no sense in killing you. . . .Yet." He picked up the bottle of wine. "More wine?" he offered.

From Blake's perspective, Rachel was pulling him closer and putting her arms around his waist. He moved in to kiss her.

Rachel finally had a good hold on his sword and his gun. She yanked them both out of his belt and pushed him away with her knee in his stomach. He fell back, trying to catch his breath. She aimed and shot the lock on the doors. It fell and she struggled with the chains. Blake clenched his teeth, grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around, and pushed her against the doors. She plunged the sword through his chest.

Blake looked down and took the sword by the handle. Rachel cringed as she heard the blade scraping his ribs as he pulled it out. He looked at the blood that covered the sword and said with a grin, "I'm curious. After killing me, what were you gonna do next?" Rachel tugged sharply on the chain that held the doors shut. They opened and she came tumbling out.

"Now!" Blake shouted. The gangsters emerged from the shadows and surrounded Rachel. For the first time that night, the clouds moved away from the moon. Rachel turned away and closed her eyes.

Every one of the gangsters had become living skeletons in the moonlight. Their clothes were shredded and torn. Their eyes seemed to glow in their sockets.

"Look!" Blake ordered, swinging Rachel back around to face them. Rachel stared at them in horror. "The moonlight shows us what we really are!" Blake said. "We are not among the living, so we can't die. But neither are we dead." He turned her back around and forced her to look in his eyes. "For too long I've been thirsty and unable to drink. Too long I've been starving to death and haven't died. I can't feel anything. Not the wind on my face, or the rain, or the sun . . ." She backed away and he reached out to her, his hand turning skeletal in the moonlight. ". . .or the warmth of a woman's flesh." He came out of the van and stood in front of her in the moonlight, also turning into a skeleton. "You'd better start believing in ghost stories, Rachel. You're in the scariest one you've ever heard!" He lifted the bottle of wine and drank it, letting it pour out his empty ribs and splatter on the ground. Rachel shoved past him and jumped back in the van. Blake shattered the empty bottle against one of the doors and slammed them shut. He turned around and laughed maniacally. The rest of the gang joined him. "Alright, boys, show's over! As you were!" he ordered.


	9. Viper loves Jamaican girls

Back in Lorenzo the next morning, Bryan had already assembled a gang for Viper. They stood in an abandoned parking lot, anxiously waiting to get their trip underway.

"You're all in the gang as long as you've got something to drive and the ability to do so. Is anyone here lacking one of those two things?" Viper asked. A thirteen-year-old boy raised his hand. "Yes, the little dude with the tattoo of the spider web covering half his face."

"Matt," the boy said.

"Well, 'Matt' then. What's your question?"

"I don't have anything to drive."

"Then, pal, you are SOL unless you can come up with something in the next five minutes."

"Be right back." Matt took off running.

Viper looked to Bryan for an explanation. "Just wait for it," Bryan assured him.

Viper shook his head in an "I'm surrounded by freaks" kind of way, then proceeded to tell his new gang about his mission. "We're going after Jacob's girl, who was kidnaped by the Black Widow. Most likely, they'll be heading to La Flor de Mal, so we'll check there first. Any loot we happen across, or happen to steal, will be divided equally between everyone. Fair?" He noticed that during his speech, many people had left, leaving only ten. He turned to Bryan. "They're not coming back, are they?"

"Well, you _have_ earned yourself a reputation," Bryan replied.

"Okay, so we rescue this chick from Blake," said a female voice with a slight Jamaican accent that Viper recognized. "We don't know for sure that there's money involved! What's in it for us?"

Viper turned around. There stood a girl with chocolate skin, eyes that matched, and long black hair. "Jenni," Viper said, approaching her. She slapped him across the face.

"I suppose you didn't deserve that one either?" Jacob asked.

"No, that's one that I deserve," said Viper.

"You stole my bike!" Jenni accused.

"Actually –" Viper started, but was cut off when Jenni slapped him again. He rubbed his face and said, "Borrowed! Borrowed without permission. But I had every intention of bringing it back."

"You didn't!"

"This is true. But . . . " Viper thought a moment, then said brightly, "You'll get another one!"

"A better one," Jacob added.

"Yeah! A better one," Viper agreed.

"That one," Jacob said, pointing to the motorcycle Viper had stolen from Max.

"What one?" Viper asked quickly, turning around. Jacob motioned to the motorcycle. "_That one?!_" Viper whispered loudly. Jacob nodded. Viper thought out his circumstances, then confirmed, "Right! That one. How 'bout it?"

Jenni looked at the motorcycle, then at Viper, and said, "I'm in."

"And the rest of you?" Viper asked. They all agreed with an "I'm in." Suddenly, there was the sound of squealing tires, and Matt came speeding back into the parking lot in a black '69 Mustang.

When he arrived back with the group, Matt leaned out the window and said to Viper, "We should get on the road as soon as possible. For one thing, there's a storm coming. . . . For another, the guy I stole this car from is not happy . . . "

"A'right! Let's ride!" Viper called. The gang got ready to leave.

"Um, Viper?" Bryan said quietly, "About Jenni. It's sorta . . . bad luck to have girls in gangs."

"Well, it'll be worse luck for_ me_ if I leave her out," Viper told him. He glanced up at the dark clouds on the horizon. "C'mon. We better hurry." He opened his compass and studied it as he started his motorcycle.

Viper was leading his gang through a terrible storm. The rain almost blinded him. But he kept the course his compass provided him with, and drove on.

Behind him, Jacob pulled up alongside Bryan and shouted, "How can we get to an island that nobody can find with a compass that doesn't work?!"

"You're right!" Bryan called back. "The compass doesn't point north! But we're not trying to find north, are we?" Bryan grinned and looked up to the sky. Then he sped up and caught up to Viper. "There's a funnel cloud forming, Viper! We'd better pull over somewhere!"

Viper glanced up at the sky. "We can outrun it!" He called back.

"What are you thinking that has you in such a good mood?"

Viper looked at his compass and a devilish smile spread across his face. "We're catching up."


	10. A sea in the middle of the desert?

The desert the Black Widow were driving through abruptly ended and sloped down a hill covered in thick, green grass. At the bottom of the hill was a beach. The water's edge was barely visible through the thick fog. Blake had led his gang to La Flor de Mal.

For the majority of the trip, Rachel had hidden in the back of Dalton's van. However, it didn't make much difference in her distance from Blake, as he had elected to drive the van and have Dalton drive the Silver Angel. She wasn't surprised when the door of the van slid open and there stood Louie and Mark. "Let's go, Hun," Louie said. Rachel got out and Blake walked up to her with the medallion in his hand. He put the chain around her neck and tilted her head to judge the look of it.

They had climbed down the steep hill, Blake repeatedly offering Rachel his hand to help her down, but every time she refused. However, when they got to the beach, she was glad for his help when she had to get in the longboat. There were three boats, the one in front being the one that Blake stood at the bow of, Rachel at his feet, and Louie and Mark rowing. When they came to the mouth of the cave on the island, Rachel was momentarily frightened when they were plunged into complete darkness.

Not much later, Viper had led his own gang to La Flor de Mal – in half the time it had taken Blake to get there. But instead of having the whole gang charge into the caves like the cavalry, he had them stay on the hill as he searched the island through a pair of binoculars, glancing at his compass every now and then.

"How did Viper come by that compass?" Jacob asked Bryan.

"Well, not much is known about Viper deMarco. He just showed up in Lorenzo one day with some scheme to go out for the treasure of La Flor de Mal. But that was before I'd met him. Back when he was the leader of the Black Widow."

"What?" Jacob asked, startled. "He never mentioned that."

Bryan knew he'd said too much already, so he decided to just tell Jacob the whole story. "He plays things closer to the vest now. Learned that the hard way. See, three days into his journey, his right-hand man came to him and said that if everything's an equal share, that should mean the treasure's location, too. So Viper gave him the directions. But that night, his gang betrayed him. They put him in the middle of the desert and left him for dead. . . .Right after they'd drugged him with twelve caffeine pills. That's 24 cups of coffee. And for Viper being someone who was clean sober his whole life . . . " He shook his head.

"Ah . . . " Jacob noticed. "That explains a lot . . . "

"Yeah . . . " Bryan said with a grim nod. "Now Jacob, when a gangster's stranded, he's left with his gun and a single bullet. Well, that won't do much good for food or being rescued. But after about three weeks of starvation, thirst, and heat, that gun'll start to look really friendly." He put a finger to the side of his head to demonstrate. "Now Viper. He escaped the desert, and he still has that one shot. He won't use, though. That gun's aimed at one person. His backstabber of a right-hand man."

"Blake," Jacob said, finally seeing the puzzle go together. "So, how did Viper escape?"

"Well, I'll tell ya. He walked through the desert nonstop for three days and three nights. Then on the fourth morning, he came upon a pack of coyotes. So he leashed them all together and rode them back to civilization."

Jacob found the story a little far-fetched. "He rode a pack of coyotes."

"That's right."

"What did he use for rope?"

Bryan was stumped. He looked over, and saw that Viper had been standing there the entire time. Jacob and Bryan looked at him for a moment. "Human hair," Viper said. "From my back." He made sure Jacob knew the story wasn't true. He looked at Bryan and said, "Me and Jacob are going in. You keep the gang here. If there's trouble, you'll see my signal."

Bryan nodded. "Got it. And in the worst-case scenario?"

"Keep to the Code."

"Right. The Code."

Viper rowed the boat toward the mouth of the cave as Jacob sat at the front with a lantern. "So what exactly is in this cave?" Jacob asked.

"Well, some say that this cave goes to a slowly descending river that leads to an underground lagoon. The rest say that just inside the mouth of the cave is a bottomless pit that goes all the way down to hell."

". . .Which is it?"

Viper pulled the oars into the boat as they were pulled into the cave. "Well, I guess we'll find out . . . "


	11. Whose side is Viper on!

The first rumor about La Flor de Mal that Viper had told Jacob was true. They were traveling down a dark river inside the cave that was gently sloping downward. Jacob saw a glint of light reflect from the edge of the river. He moved the lantern to get a better look. There, partially buried in sand, was a skeleton. It seemed to be climbing out of the river with a handful of jewels still clutched in its hand. But what frightened Jacob about it was how there was a sword still in its back.

"What's this code Bryan's supposed to keep to?" Jacob asked in a worried tone.

"The Code of Honor. It's like the King James Version of the Pirates' Code. 'Any man who falls behind is left behind.' "

"I guess there's no heroes among thieves, huh?"

"Now, for having such a terrible image of gangsters, you're well on your way to becoming one yourself." Viper knew Jacob was offended, so he explained. "You broke a criminal out of jail, stole a bike, left Lorenzo along with some _more_ criminals . . . " Jacob looked over the side of the boat at another pile of gold coins and jewels that had been spilled. ". . . And, you're completely obsessed with treasure."

The boat took a sudden drop, and they came to the underground lagoon Viper had spoken about. A waterfall was on the far side, and looking up, Jacob could see the gray sky through the opening at the top.

They got out and Jacob pulled the boat up into the sand. "That's not true!" he called after Viper, who had already started into the caves. Then said to himself, "I am not obsessed with treasure."

Viper climbed up the rocks with Jacob behind him. Then he crawled out on a ledge and looked down. The Black Widow had assembled in the treasure room, a huge cavern that was filled with gold, jewels, pearls, and anything else of valuable nature. But his eyes were drawn to Rachel, standing next to Blake behind the chest of cursed gold. "Dude, not all treasure is silver and gold," he said to Jacob, never moving his eyes from Rachel. Jacob knew exactly what Viper was talking about when he saw her for himself. They watched as the gang gathered around and Blake prepared to rid them and himself of the curse.

"Well boys, this is it!" Blake announced. "Five years of searching, and we've recovered every piece of gold. . . .Every piece except for this!" He pointed to the medallion on the chain around Rachel neck, and the gang cheered.

"Okay, let's go!" Jacob whispered, about to climb down from where he and Viper watched. As he reached out to pull himself up, his hand landed on a pile of gold coins.

"Not yet!" Viper said, pulling him back, and the coins along with him.

Blake's cat swivelled his little head around as he heard the coins fall. But seeing no one there, he turned his attention back to Blake.

"We wait for the opportune moment," Viper instructed as the walked back through the caves.

"When's that? When it's the best profit to you?" Jacob accused.

"Hey. Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?" He didn't allow time for an answer. "Do us _and_ Rachel a favor, huh? I know it's kinda hard for you, but please, stay here. And try not to do anything . . . stupid." He turned away and snuck silently through the caves.

Blake took the medallion and placed it in the palm of Rachel's hand. He raised his knife and she cringed. Everyone was surprised, including her, when he only cut her hand. "That's it?" asked Rachel, relieved but confused.

Blake shrugged. "Waste not." He squeezed her hand tightly around the medallion, then let go. She dropped the coin in the chest. All was silent.

Viper watched from the shadows. He knew Blake wouldn't kill Rachel. Now he was just waiting for them to realize the curse wasn't broken, and he could bargain back the girl _and_ the Silver Angel.

He felt a presence behind him. He placed his hand on his sword and turned around quickly. But before he saw who it was, he was hit over the head and fell to the ground unconscious.

"Sorry, Viper," Jacob muttered, dropping the oar he had hit him with on the ground. "I'm not going to be your leverage."

"Did it work?" Mark asked. "I don't feel no different."

"How do we tell?" Louie added. Blake rolled his eyes and shot him in the chest. He was momentarily shocked at the smoking bullet hole, but realized nothing was happening.

"You're not dead!" Mark exclaimed.

"No!" Louie replied happily. His smile faded. "He shot me!"

The gang was unsure who to accuse: Louie and Mark for bringing them the wrong person, or Blake for ever leading them to La Flor de Mal in the first place.

Blake looked at the blood on the knife, the cut on Rachel's hand, and the medallion in the chest. "You!" he said, taking Rachel by the shoulders. "What was your father's name?" She said nothing. "Was your father Jesse Waters?"

"No," she answered boldly.

"Where's his child? You had the medallion, you must have met Jesse's child one way or another! Where?" When she didn't respond, he backhanded her. She fell on the ground behind him.

As Blake argued with his gang about whose fault it was that the curse was still upon them, Rachel reached up and took the medallion from the chest without attracting any notice. Then she ran.

Rachel tried to remember the way she'd came. But no matter which way she turned, every cave and cavern looked the same. She heard Blake and the gang getting close on her trail. She bolted. Then she fell off the edge of a sudden cliff.

"Gotcha!" a familiar voice said as a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the ledge just below where she'd fallen. She pushed the hair away from her eyes and looked up. There stood Viper with his arms crossed, smirking down at her.

"You!" she said accusingly, rising to her feet.

"Me," Viper said with a nod. He turned away and started back through the caves. When he noticed she was just standing there, dumbfounded, he whistled and motioned for her to follow him. "That's twice I've saved your life now," he said when she caught up with him. "You owe me."

"Okay. I owe you. Now what are you doing here?" Rachel asked as they arrived back at the lagoon.

"Rescuing you. What does it look like?" Viper replied.

"Oh, right. Like I'm gonna believe _that._"

"No, he's right," Jacob said, appearing behind them.

Rachel turned around suddenly. "Oh," she said. Then looked at Viper. "In that case . . . thanks."

Viper's jaw dropped. "How'd you do that?" he asked Jacob, pointing at Rachel. They heard the gang close behind. Viper pulled out his sword. "You two get back to shore! I'll hold them off!"

"You don't have to do this. If we can get away, you can too," Jacob reasoned. The sounds of the gang's approaching got closer. "Good luck," he said, and hastily helped Rachel into a boat and rowed out.

Viper hurried around the edge of the lagoon, taking the oars out of all the boats and throwing them into the water. Then he ran and hid. When the gang came back to the lagoon, they had no way out. "The oars are missing! Find them, you worthless pack of disease ridden . . . " Dalton ordered, but stopped when he saw Viper emerge from the shadows.

"You," Louie said in astonishment as they all gathered around Viper. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"I'm not?" Viper replied, putting two fingers to his wrist to check.

"No. But we'll change that soon enough," Mark threatened, taking out his sword. The others followed suit.

"Parliley," Viper said. They all looked confused and lowered their weapons. "Parli lelay lulu," he tried again. His mind still mixed up from his whack on the head, he thought intently and muttered to himself, "Parlilay, parsnip, parsley, par . . . partner, parlor . . ."

"Parley?" Mark offered.

"That's the one!" Viper exclaimed, pointing at Mark. "Parley! I plead Parley."

Mark grinned proudly, but his smile faded when he saw the angry glares around him.

"Curse the man who thought up Parley," Louie growled.

"That would be the French," Viper informed.

Jacob pulled the boat ashore and helped Rachel out. Viper's gang stood there waiting for them.

"No more gangsters," Rachel sighed as she saw the men surrounding her.

"Hey, cuz!" Bryan greeted, hugging her tightly.

"Bryan? What are you doing here?" Rachel asked when they pulled away.

He didn't answer. He looked at Jacob. "Hey, kid. Where's Viper?"

Jacob looked at the gangs worried faces and said regretfully, "He fell behind." They all knew what that meant. He was either dead or captured. Every spirit fell.

"A'ight, boys! Get the bricks outta your pants! Let's ride!" Jenni ordered, knowing she was now the leader.

Blake walked up and stared at Viper blankly. The gang surrounded them, expecting a fight.

"How could you have possibly gotten out of the desert?" Blake muttered.

"When you drugged me and left me to die out there in that godforsaken wasteland, you forgot one very important detail." Blake crossed his arms, waiting for him to continue. "I'm Viper deMarco."

"Ah. Well, I guess I won't be making that mistake again," Blake said. He looked around at his gang. "Boys, you all remember Zach deMarco!" They cursed and laughed knowingly. "Kill 'im," he added, then turned away as every gun aimed at Viper.

"The girl's blood didn't work, did it?" Viper said, just seconds from death.

Blake stopped in his tracks. "Hold fire!" he shouted, much to the disappointment of the gang. He turned around and looked knowingly at Viper. "You know who's blood we need?"

A devilish smirk appeared on his face, as he realized everything was going his way. "I know who's blood you need."


End file.
